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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27894037">love put us two together (but we don't know how to stay)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_same/pseuds/we_are_the_same'>we_are_the_same</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician), zayn malik - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5 Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Best Friends, Dream Guide Liam Payne, Dream Guide Zayn Malik, Dreams vs. Reality, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, No Smut, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Louis Tomlinson, Pining, Strangers to Lovers, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:49:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,985</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27894037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_same/pseuds/we_are_the_same</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is Louis' best friend. But in his dreams, they are more.<br/>Or: four dreams in which Harry and Louis figure it out, and the one time Louis decides to make his dreams come true.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>5 Times 1D Fic Fest</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to <a href="https://louandhazaf.tumblr.com/">Nic</a> and <a href="https://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/">Lauren</a> for hosting this fest! I love a good 5 times fic, it truly brings me back to my roots. </p><p>As always, a massive thank you to my incomparable beta who truly had me in stitches by documenting their breakdown in the google doc. Thank you for always being willing to read through my fics and giving me the courage and confidence to keep writing. I love you.</p><p>Throughout this fic, I will use the following:<br/>* to indicate a scene break<br/>*** to indicate switching from dream to reality</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Louis has never really thought of himself as a coward. He might not be the bravest person on the planet, though he’d like to say that it’s less about being brave and more about being <em>sensible</em>, but he’s not ashamed to go after what he wants in life. He’s loud and outspoken and proud, wears his heart on his sleeve most of the time, and there are few people who would peg him as the type to slink back into the shadows when he truly wants something.</p>
<p>But then there’s <em>Harry</em>. And Harry is .. God, he’s everything. He’s lovely and kind and sweet, clumsy but always the first to laugh at himself. He’s a great cook and a better conversationalist, he cries at sappy movies and he keeps Louis up until three in the morning debating the tough topics of life. He’s Louis’ best friend, his confidant, the one person that Louis knows will always have his back.</p>
<p>And he’s the only exception to Louis’ rule, because when it comes to Harry, he <em>can’t </em>be brave. He can’t tackle things head on, the way he usually does. The thought of going up to him and telling him <em>hey, I really quite like you, can we see where this goes</em> fills him with a dread that’s so heavy that his body struggles to breathe. </p>
<p>Every time he thinks that he might pluck up the courage, the <em>what if</em>’s come.</p>
<p>What if Harry doesn’t return his feelings? </p>
<p>What if this ruins their friendship? It’s not that he thinks Harry won’t ever talk to him again, but it will change things. What if it makes it awkward to talk to him, and they’ll end up losing that safe space they’ve had with each other? </p>
<p>There’s another option, of course. That Harry <em>does </em>return his feelings. But they come with another <em>what if</em>, one that’s always enough to make him reconsider.</p>
<p>What if things don’t work out? What if they date and he ends up hurting Harry, or Harry ends up breaking his heart, and he’ll have lost his chance at a happy ending as well as his friendship?</p>
<p>It’s perhaps not better, but certainly easier, to hide his feelings away. To hope that he’ll stop feeling this way at some point, and Harry will be just his best friend again. He knows that inevitably it’ll mean watching Harry get into a relationship with someone else (though he hasn’t really dated anyone, as far as Louis knows at least, in the three years that they’ve been friends) but even if that would be bittersweet it’d still be worth the price as long as it means having Harry in his life. </p>
<p>He just can’t lose him. </p>
<p>It’s not an option.</p>
<p>So what else can he do?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Throughout this fic, I will use the following:<br/>* to indicate a scene break<br/>*** to indicate switching from dream to reality</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“C’mon Lou, what’s the harm?” Zayn bats his lashes at Louis, and Louis groans, throws himself back on his bed, his head hitting the pillow with a soft <em>thwump</em>. </p>
<p>“My mom will kill me.”</p>
<p>“That’s why we’re sneaking out,” Zayn says practically, and Louis considers throwing the pillow at Zayn’s face, but he’s too comfortable to move. “I thought you’d like the idea. You’re always the one telling me to live a little.”</p>
<p>Zayn has a point. But Louis sort of feels like being contrary, so he just makes a face at him instead. “It’s a weeknight,” he says, and even he knows how lame that sounds. </p>
<p>Zayn snorts. “Okay grandpa.” He teases, and Louis grumps at him a little until Zayn shifts to lie down next to him, wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and snuggles in. “Pleeeaaase?”</p>
<p>The thing is, Louis can’t really come up with a good reason not to go to the party tonight. They’re seventeen, he’s responsible (for the most part) and doesn’t often break the rules. Zayn’s usually the one who keeps him on the straight and narrow, so the fact that his best friend is asking him to break the rules now is something that makes it hard for Louis not to cave. Because he’s curious. Zayn must have a reason for wanting to go to this party, and Louis has the distinct impression that Zayn’s reason might be 5”9, with warm brown eyes and brown hair, and a distinct birthmark on his throat. </p>
<p>“Alright,” he concedes, snorting at the way Zayn just absolutely <em>lights up</em> at his words. “But-” he stresses, tapping Zayn’s nose, “you are not allowed to ditch me to snog Liam Payne. Bros before .. other really pretty bros.” Not that Liam was their bro, really, he’d only just transferred to their school, and Louis personally didn’t see the appeal, but just calling him pretty makes Zayn flush and bite his lip in a way that’s just too adorable for Louis to resist teasing him a bit. </p>
<p>“Promise.” Zayn mumbles, and Louis can tell by his face that he’s probably thinking he doesn’t stand a chance with Liam anyway. He thinks Zayn doesn’t see in the mirror what other people do. Louis knows how that can be. He still sees his twelve year old self shining through sometimes, even now that he’s turned seventeen a few weeks ago. Having grown up with Zayn he can still see the gangly twelve year old in him too, the boy that hadn’t grown into his features yet, but at seventeen Zayn is already one of the most beautiful people in the world.</p>
<p>Louis had considered crushing on him, once upon a time. He knew that it wasn’t really possible, that you couldn’t force your feelings, but having recently come to terms (and out of the closet) with his sexuality, it was only natural that he was curious. And who better, and safer, than his best friend? </p>
<p>“C’mon then, let’s get ready. Let’s make it so that Liam has no choice but to stare at you all night,” he grins, tickles Zayn and pins him to the bed when he squirms. “I might let you make out with him a little bit,” he teases. “Just enough so that he’ll fall fully under your spell by the time the clock strikes midnight.”</p>
<p>Zayn snorts again. “And then what, I turn into a pumpkin?” He gives Louis a light shove, not enough to unbalance him, though Louis knows that Zayn knows that he could, just as he knows that Zayn knows that he’d let him. “Alright you weirdo, let’s get you prettied up too yeah? Who knows, there might be someone there who catches your eye.”</p>
<p>Louis really doubts that, but he does rather like the prospect. It’d be nice to fall in love, even if it’s just for tonight.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>It happens during a game of spin the bottle.</p>
<p>Louis is sipping on a beer that’s lukewarm by now, feeling loose limbed and content, even in a room full of strangers. Though, most of them are not really strangers but people in his school, in his class, whose names he knows even if he knows little else. They’re the extras in his life, the background characters, but right now, with one beer down and a second one half empty he thinks he might love every single one of them. He just feels full of warmth and happiness, and it’s only made better when an extremely pretty boy chooses to join their little juvenile game.</p>
<p>“Hi,” he says, and his voice is deep, deeper than his gangly frame would suggest, and even in the relative dim of the room Louis swears the boy is looking straight at him. Where it would usually make him fidget (he both loves to be the centre of attention as well as hates having people scrutinize him) he feels mellow enough to just smile at him, resisting the urge to fluff up his hair. “‘m Harry.”</p>
<p>“Hi Harry.” He’s surprised to hear his voice crack, hopes that it’s dark enough that people don’t notice the way he’s blushing. “You joining our game?”</p>
<p>“If that’s okay.” Harry still looks at Louis as though Louis is the group leader, the only one who gets a vote about whether or not Harry is allowed to join a stupid teenage game of spin the bottle. Louis nods, of course he does, and Harry sits down opposite from him, sending him a grin that makes Louis thankful that he’s sitting down. </p>
<p>For the next five minutes there’s a heavy weight in his stomach, this sort of fear and excitement that comes with imagining twisting the bottle and having it land on Harry. He wants it, but is terrified of it, of what might happen if Harry doesn’t want to kiss him, maybe even laughs at Louis for making a motion towards him. He’s equally terrified of what would happen if Harry <em>does</em> want to kiss him, because Louis has been kissed before but not a lot.</p>
<p>He’s overanalyzing it, he knows. Spin the bottle barely ever comes with a full on make out, not unless the two people kissing are obviously into each other. Or drunk. Louis is neither, but he can’t quite convince his pounding heart of that, nor his trembling fingers when he reaches out to spin the empty beer bottle. </p>
<p>Round and round it goes, and Louis watches it with bated breath, its spin slowing down until it comes to a stop with a slight quiver, the neck of the bottle pointing right in the middle between Harry and a pretty girl in Louis’ class named Kaitlyn. </p>
<p>He feels heavy, unsure of what to do, but Harry reaches out, and Louis feels his stomach drop, sure that he’s going to give it a nudge so that it will land on Kaitlyn. But their eyes meet, and it sort of feels like a challenge when Harry nudges the bottle the other way, making it point towards himself. It might just be Louis’ brain drowning out all other sounds, but it feels like everything in the room has suddenly gone quiet. </p>
<p>Harry just arches an eyebrow, and Louis feels clumsy as he shifts onto his hands and knees, leans forward to press his lips against Harry’s. </p>
<p>It’s simple. Lips on lips. Soft pressure and an exhale that smells like cinnamon gum. </p>
<p>But it’s not simple at all. It’s like that one little kiss jolts him awake, reignites nerve endings that he’s never known existed. Harry’s hand has come up to rest on his cheek, and Louis can feel the warmth of his fingertips sink down into his very soul. He’s breathless, timeless, frozen in a moment that’s hotter than anything else he’s ever experienced. </p>
<p>He’s also terrified, that once he pulls back Harry’s world won’t have changed, that he isn’t feeling the same earth shattering core changing <em>thing</em> that Louis is. He almost doesn’t want to open his eyes, when Harry shifts, and as a result he nearly jumps when Harry’s hand makes contact with his. </p>
<p>“Come.” He says, and Louis doesn’t ask where, doesn’t ask what’s going on. He just follows him. </p>
<p>*</p>
<p>They spend the rest of their night talking on the couch. Louis learns that Harry’s sister goes to Louis’ school. Harry learns that Louis’ sister goes to Harry’s school. They learn that their paths have almost crossed no less than ten times in the past few years. </p>
<p>They learn what it’s like to touch each other. Little things, like Harry’s thumb brushing at the back of Louis’ neck when they talk. Their knees bumping together. Louis’ hand on Harry’s ankle, when he throws his legs in his lap like they’ve known each other forever. </p>
<p>They don’t kiss until the end of the night, when a rose cheeked Zayn comes to find him, Liam’s arm around his shoulders, his lips so red that Louis doesn’t have to ask if he’s had a good evening. Even though Zayn had broken his promise, Louis can’t really be mad about it, not when he gets it now. Not when every cell in his being just wants to stay pressed close to Harry for the rest of his life. As though they had started out as one being, and were calling out to one another from the moment they’d been separated. </p>
<p>“Can I have your number?” Harry asks, and Louis wants to tell him that he can have his <em>heart</em>, but instead he writes down his phone number on a piece of paper and prays that Harry won’t forget about it and throw his jeans in the wash in the morning. But he has the uncanny feeling that even if he does fate will find another way to bring them together. </p>
<p>He’s seventeen, has never had a boyfriend, had only met Harry for the first time tonight but something about this feels infinite. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Louis wakes up still feeling warm and content, much like the seventeen year old version in his dream had felt. It’s odd, how realistic dreams could feel, even when there are so many things that, upon waking up, didn’t make sense. </p>
<p>For one, Harry had had long hair when Louis had first met him (at seventeen years old, though not at a party, and when Harry had been seventeen Louis had been almost twenty, not the same age), not the cropped barely curled ‘do he’d had at the party. In fact, Louis doesn’t recall him ever looking like that, in the three years they’ve been friends. </p>
<p>Then there’s the fact that in his dream his best friend (before Harry had taken that place) hadn’t been Stan, but a boy named Zayn, someone Louis was sure he’d never seen in real life. He’d know, he’d have remembered a face like that. </p>
<p>It had felt so real though. Usually Louis barely remembered his dreams, but this one, it sticks with him. Not the exact details, but the warmth in his stomach, the feeling of not just longing but <em>be</em>longing. It makes him want to seek Harry out and cuddle up with him, which would not be anything out of the ordinary on any other day, but that right now makes Louis feel like if he does, he might just cry. </p>
<p>So he doesn’t seek him out. He just focuses on his work instead, and tries to forget that for one night, if only in a dream, he’d belonged to Harry.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. II.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Throughout this fic, I will use the following:<br/>* to indicate a scene break<br/>*** to indicate switching from dream to reality</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s so screwed. </p>
<p>He should’ve known better. But he hadn’t <em>meant</em> for any of this to happen. It had just been a prank, a bit of friendly rivalry. He hadn’t meant for someone to get hurt. </p>
<p>It had all started off so well too. Zayn and Liam had gotten him to join Camp Harmony as a counselor this year, seeing as they’d both enjoyed working there so much last year and Louis had been looking for a summer job. A month taking care of little kids who were into music, getting to run around and play footie with them, tan and swim and tell ghost stories by the campfire - it had all sounded so idyllic.</p>
<p>He’d been in charge of Cabin 5, its occupants also known as team Rhapsody, the name that they would use when competing with the other cabins. It was nothing serious, just little challenges that would earn them points, and at the end of the month the winner would be crowned. Of course Louis wanted to win. He wanted his cabin to win. Sure, he could say that he just wanted it because he loved his kids, but if truth be told, he’d always been a sore loser, and he’d wanted that plaque from the moment he’d heard about the competition.</p>
<p>Zayn and Liam knew him, knew how enthusiastic he would become, and they would be happy to give him some friendly competition, but that wasn’t enough. No, Louis wanted everyone to know him, his kids, wanted them to know that they were the best.</p>
<p>That he was the best, possibly, which had everything to do with the leader of Cabin Andante, even if Louis would not admit to it. </p>
<p>The leader, a boy his age with brown curls and the most beautiful green eyes that Louis shouldn’t have been able to make out over the campfire but somehow still could, who was a veteran, who had been coming to Camp Harmony ever since he was a little kid. </p>
<p>Louis had just sort of wanted to impress him. That was all. </p>
<p>But Louis was a kid with a crush, honestly, he was the type to pull pigtails when all he wanted to do was talk to someone. He just had never really learned how to. Going up to Harry and just sitting down next to him wasn’t nearly as easy as getting his attention by playing some harmless little pranks on him.</p>
<p>Harry hadn’t seemed to mind, at first. His kids had gone head to head with Louis’ kids, and it had all seemed to be in good spirits. </p>
<p>He’d caught on too late. </p>
<p>And he hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, he tries explaining, even as he’s lectured about ‘putting campers at risk’ and ‘responsibility’, even as he’s sent to pack his bags and head home, the kids watching and he <em>hates</em> how he’s upset them, hates how he can see a few of them with tears in his eyes, because -</p>
<p>It’d just been a little spider. A fake spider. In Harry’s bed. Something that would give him a bit of a scare, and then he’d laugh, and think about a way to get back at Louis. </p>
<p>Except it hadn’t been Harry’s bed because he’d switched with a camper, and the little kid hadn’t just jumped he’d fallen, and he’d hit his head, and there was blood and doctors and Harry had been <em>so</em> mad. He’d looked at Louis in a way that Louis never wanted him to look at him. With a coldness, and anger, and dismissal, and Louis never usually had trouble finding his words but he’d barely even managed a sorry. A sorry that had been heard but barely even acknowledged, and Harry had just shaken his head and told him that it was alright for Louis to hate him but it wasn’t alright for him to put others in danger just to get back at him, and how could he have gotten things so messed up?</p>
<p>Zayn had cuddled him, and promised to talk to Harry for him, and Liam had told him he’d take good care of his campers, but Louis had felt like shit, all the way home.</p>
<p>He still feels like shit now. It’s been three days and he misses everything about camp. He misses getting up early, and waking up his kids, and trying to keep mayhem from erupting as they’re herded into the shower building. He misses loud, <em>loud</em> breakfasts with fifty kids and a dozen counselors. He even misses the hikes they go on, and the cleaning up after all his kids. </p>
<p>He misses sitting by the fire with the other counselors, and sneaking glances at Harry and wondering if he’ll ever get past the urge to make a joke when he talks to him. </p>
<p>But Harry hates him now, and Louis has fucked it all up.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>It’s barely six thirty in the morning when he receives a call. It slowly creeps through the haze of his dreams, calling him to reality, and he manages to pick up just in time, if the pause on the other end of the line is any indication.</p>
<p>Then again, it might just be his morning voice, deep and gruff and slow. Or the fact that he doesn’t say his name, but only manages a tired “‘lo?”</p>
<p>The pause lasts long enough that Louis’ eyes begin to droop again, but then there’s a soft exhale, and “Louis?”</p>
<p>Louis doesn’t scramble to sit up in bed at the sound of that voice. He does push himself up, nearly unbalancing himself and spraining his wrist in the process, but he doesn’t <em>scramble</em>. “..Harry?”</p>
<p>This must be a dream. It seems like a more realistic explanation than that Harry’s actually calling him. </p>
<p>“Hi.” </p>
<p>Louis pinches himself. It stings, and his skin turns white, then red. </p>
<p>“Hi?” He rubs at his face, shifts to turn on the light on his bedside table. “Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting you to call.” He squints at the phone. “Especially not at six twenty three in the morning.” </p>
<p>There’s silence on the other end of the line, and Louis winces. “Sorry. I didn’t - that wasn’t meant to come across as mean. I’m happy you called.” He pauses. “I think? Why did you call? Please don’t tell me you’ve called just to make me feel worse about what happened because I honestly already feel like shit.” </p>
<p>This is why he plays pranks. He barely has a working brain to mouth filter at the best of times, let alone around cute boys like Harry. </p>
<p>“I haven’t,” Harry says, and if Louis strains his ears he swears he can hear crickets chirp in the background, and the soft sound of twigs snapping under Harry’s feet. “I um, actually called to apologize.”</p>
<p>Louis stops bunching his blanket up into a ball and frowns into the slight darkness of his room. “I didn’t think I was the one that was owed an apology in this case,” he says quietly, resisting the urge to fidget with the small hole his fingers have sought out in the fitted sheet on his mattress. </p>
<p>Harry hums, and Louis would give anything to be there with him, to see the expressions on his face, even though he’s a complete novice at reading them. “Well, you already gave me one before you left,” he says practically, and Louis has to hold back a snort.</p>
<p>“True,” he says, just as softly, “but this isn’t a matter of reciprocity, Harry. Just because I owed you an apology doesn’t mean that you had to give me one in return.” </p>
<p>Harry hums again. “The prank war was just as much my fault though. At the start, I thought it was just a bit of fun.”</p>
<p>Louis closes his eyes. “It was,” he says, and he hates how his voice sounds small, like he’s about to be lectured and he’s not sure it wasn’t easier to deal with everything that had happened before he’d gotten this call. “Harry, listen- what you said, when I left, about me hating you-”</p>
<p>“We don’t have to like each other, Louis.” Harry says, and Louis feels as though he’s being doused in ice water, and for a moment he just sits there, stares at his blanket, because Harry doesn’t like him. It’s not that he didn’t know, but it still sucks to have it confirmed, by none other than Harry himself. “That’s not why I called. I just - I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. It wasn’t fair, when we’ve been playing pranks on your cabin too. It could’ve been me, pulling that prank.”</p>
<p>Louis swallows. “No,” he whispers. “You’d have checked to make sure you had the right bunk.” </p>
<p>“Regardless,” Harry continues, as though Louis hadn’t said anything. “The kids miss you. And it wasn’t fair that you got fired when both of our cabins were involved. I never made you stop playing those pranks. So, I figured I’d call and see if you were interested in coming back.”</p>
<p>“I got fired.” Louis says blankly. “I can’t just come back.”</p>
<p>Harry snorts. “I know. I was there. But I figured, if you were interested in coming back, I could talk to the camp owner, and see if he won’t give you your job back.”</p>
<p>Louis’ heart is aching, and he rests his palm against it, as though that will provide some sort of comfort, soothe the sting that some of Harry’s words have left. He’s not sure what he was expecting when he realized it was Harry on the other side of the line, but it’s clear that Harry’s only interested in doing what’s best for the kids. He doesn’t actually want Louis back. </p>
<p>It’s fair, and sweet, in a way, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” he manages, after a slow, deep breath. “I mean. Yeah, I’d fucking love to come back, because I miss being there, and I miss the kids, but-” is he really going to put himself through two more weeks of camp, seeing Harry every day when he knows Harry doesn’t like him? </p>
<p>“You don’t want a second chance?” </p>
<p>Louis swallows. “I’d love one. Just - I’d love it if that included a second chance with you too.” </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>It’s odd. Waking up after dreaming about Harry for the second night in a row. It’d been so vivid again, Louis swears the camp must be real somehow or he must have seen it in a movie. Because the images, they don’t feel like something his mind could’ve come up with. </p>
<p>Then again, his mind had come up with a scenario in which Harry hated him, and Louis knows there’s probably some deeper meaning to all this. He doesn’t need to be a psychologist to understand what his dream is trying to tell him here. His inability to talk to Harry, his subsequent dislike of him, the fact that he’d needed a second chance to right all his wrongs -</p>
<p>It had worked, too. He’d come back to camp, in his dream, and he’d talked. He’d taken Harry aside and told him about his feelings, about his terrible attempt at flirting with him. And Harry had forgiven him, because that’s who Harry was, in every universe or dream. </p>
<p>
And they’d ended up together. Just like the night before. It had ended with a kiss, with an unspoken promise, and Louis knows what his brain is trying to tell him. That sometimes not talking is making things worse.</p>
<p>That sometimes, you just need to take a risk. </p>
<p>But Louis also knows that just because it had worked out in his dreams doesn’t mean that he’ll get the same outcome in real life. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. III.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Throughout this fic, I will use the following:<br/>* to indicate a scene break<br/>*** to indicate switching from dream to reality</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Zayn, I swear to God-” Louis isn’t in the mood. He’s had a hard enough day already, writers’ block not letting up, and none of the demos he’d sent out even warranting a reply. The last thing he needed was Zayn shoving his phone in his face, making him look at TikTok. </p><p>Honestly, what is it with that app anyway? Everyone seems obsessed with it these days. His siblings are doing these stupid dances, his friends are talking about challenges or cosplays, and Louis feels out of the loop and <em>old</em>.</p><p>He’s twenty seven, but he feels eighty sometimes. He doesn’t know how to do an Instagram Live, he refuses to download Snapchat; the only app he’d sort of liked was Vine, and that had disappeared ages ago. </p><p>No amount of Zayn telling him that TikTok was sort of like Vine was enough to sway him. </p><p>“Lou c’mon. Half of the songs that are in the charts are there because of TikTok. If you don’t personally like it, at least approach it from a marketing standpoint.”</p><p>Louis sighs. He <em>hates</em> when Zayn has a point.</p><p>*</p><p>Zayn walks him through it, one Sunday afternoon. Helps him set up a profile, and even though Louis still feels ridiculous, playing his song for an audience of zero, Zayn teaches him how to make sounds, promises him that people are always looking for the next song to do their dances or POVs to. </p><p>Louis supposes it’s worth a try. And anyway, he’s used to rejection, isn’t he?</p><p>The thing is. It’s kind of fun, once he gets into it.</p><p>At first he just checks his ForYou page. Calls it market research, so that he can justify wasting his time on an app when he should be writing songs. Nevermind that writing block is still in full swing, and that no amount of staring at a blank piece of paper has made any difference. He’s not taking this app seriously. Not really.</p><p>But then he starts seeing people use some of his sounds, and he goes from watching their videos to watching other videos, to subscribing to people here and there.</p><p>It’s just something fun to do before bed. Or when he’s on the loo. Or when he’s waiting for his food to heat up or be delivered. </p><p>He interacts with people who use his sounds. Uploads a few more ones, without Zayn’s help this time. </p><p>His account grows.</p><p>*</p><p>He writes again. It’s not always up to his standard, but people seem to love it, and knowing that it doesn’t have to be perfect to be enjoyed actually makes it easier. </p><p>He’s sort of glad for TikTok now, and Zayn’s insistence, but he’s not about to tell his best mate that.</p><p>He does, however, tell his best mate when Harry Styles messages him.</p><p>Because well, how could he not. It’s only bloody Harry Styles, the most popular singer on either side of the Atlantic.</p><p>Harry Styles, who likes his songs, who had stumbled upon him after one of Louis’ sounds had gone viral. </p><p>Harry Styles, who wants him to write a song for him.</p><p>*</p><p>They video call, because Harry lives in LA and Louis lives in London, and it’s important to talk about expectations before either one of them flies out. Harry talks about intuition, and needing to feel a vibe, and it could sound like some hippie dippy bullshit, but he’s lovely and awkward on video and Louis can’t help but feel at ease. </p><p>They click. Of course they click. </p><p>Louis flies out to LA a month later, pages of half finished songs in his binder because he is old school and prefers writing by hand. </p><p>He never flies back.</p><p>***</p><p>It’s becoming a habit now, to dream about Harry, and Louis isn’t sure how he feels about it. He knows that he’s in love with him, he just didn’t think he was that obsessed that he’d dream about him, about them, in love in various scenarios for three consecutive nights. </p><p>He wonders if that means he should put some distance between them. If he ever plans to get over him, he probably shouldn’t be spending so much time with him. </p><p>But then, it’s <em>Harry</em>. His best friend. They’ve known each other for three years and barely a day has gone by that they haven’t seen each other. The only reason they haven’t moved in together is because Louis was already in college by the time he’d met Harry and he’s been able to stick to his roommate ever since, clinging to him out of fear that he’d cave and say yes to Harry’s puppy dog eyes. </p><p>Well, that, and Niall is just an all around great guy. </p><p>But mostly, if he’s honest, because living with Harry would be disastrous. He needs a place to escape, needs something that’s private, a place where he can lament about Harry’s curls and eyes all he wants and doesn’t have to worry about being overheard.</p><p>(Niall overhears, sometimes, but Niall is a great friend who doesn’t say a word even if he keeps giving him meaningful looks whenever Harry’s around and they’re cuddling on the couch.)</p><p>So what’s he supposed to do? He can’t put distance between him and Harry, but no amount of dreaming up alternate universes will be enough to convince him to ask Harry out either. Yeah, it had all worked out in his dreams, even the one dream where they’d started off on completely the wrong foot- </p><p>But.</p><p>They’d also been <em>strangers</em>, in every dream, and as strangers, the stakes weren’t nearly as high as they were in real life, where they’re best friends. Louis can’t just follow his dreams and let them lead him, because there’s no guarantee it’ll give the same result.</p><p>And he shouldn’t put stock in dreams anyway. They’re just dreams. Fueled by his subconscious (and honestly, conscious) desires. They’re not a roadmap. They’re not going to come true, just because a part of him desperately wants them to. That’s not how dreams work.</p><p>There’s another thing that his dreams have in common though, besides being centered around Harry and his secret love for him.</p><p>Zayn.</p><p>Every one of his dreams has featured Zayn, and Louis can’t help but wonder why. How is he connected to all of this? How has a boy he’s never met somehow ended up in every one of his dreams?</p><p>He’s going to have to find out. Since dreaming about Harry has become a regular occurrence, Louis is willing to bet his left kidney (or at least Niall’s left kidney) that he’s going to end up dreaming about him again. </p><p>So he does the only logical thing.</p><p>He spends all day reading up on lucid dreaming.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. IV.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Throughout this fic, I will use the following:<br/>* to indicate a scene break<br/>*** to indicate switching from dream to reality</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em></em>
  </strong>
  <em>“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today-” </em>
</p><p>Louis tunes out the marriage officiant, his heart aching too much to pay attention to anything but the person in front of him.</p><p>Harry. </p><p>He’s <em>beautiful</em>, but then, Louis had expected nothing else. It was his wedding day, of course he’d looked the best he’d ever done. His curls were luscious, framing a face that couldn’t stop smiling. Louis could see tears in his eyes.</p><p>If only Harry was looking at <em>him</em>.</p><p>God, how badly he wished to be standing up there, holding Harry’s hands, promising him forever. Promising him all those things that were real, those genuine feelings that Louis had kept hidden from him for years now. Harry deserved the world, and Louis wanted to give it to him, but the only way he’d been able to do that was by keeping quiet. Letting him marry the man of his dreams.</p><p>So he <em>isn’t</em> holding Harry’s hands, he isn’t standing there, in front of the officiant, isn’t proclaiming his love in front of the entirety of their friends and loved ones.</p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>Louis glances to his left, where Zayn is leaning against the brick wall, looking casually handsome. </p><p>Zayn, Louis’ best friend aside from Harry.</p><p>Zayn, the only person in Louis’ life that -- </p><p><em>Wait</em>.</p><p>Louis blinks. Suddenly it feels as though the fog in his head is clearing, as though he can separate what’s going on from his part in it. He flexes his fingers, pleased when he finds he isn’t just a spectator in his own body.</p><p>He slides out of his seat, shifts to stand next to Zayn. In front of them the ceremony continues, no one paying them any mind. </p><p>“This isn’t real.” Louis says, and he expects Zayn to argue, but Zayn just cocks his head and looks at him. “I’m dreaming.” Even as he says it, he can still feel the weight, the nausea, the absolute <em>pain</em> that comes with watching Harry marry someone else. He doesn’t need Zayn to tell him why that is. He doesn’t need him to explain that this will be his future someday. He knows all of it already, even if he tries not to think about it.</p><p>“Why are you doing this to me?” He asks, and Zayn arches an eyebrow. </p><p>“What am I doing, exactly?” </p><p>Louis exhales through gritted teeth. “You’re not real. You’re not my best friend. I don’t even <em>know</em> you. How are you in every dream I’ve had in the past couple of days?”</p><p>Zayn pushes himself off the wall in a move that shouldn’t be as gracious as it is. “Am I?” He says. “That’s interesting. Is that the only thing your dreams have had in common?”</p><p>A part of Louis wants to punch the wall. Another part wants to punch Zayn’s face. He does neither, just sighs an irritated sigh. “Don’t mock. You know full well what they’ve had in common.” He can’t resist it; even though he knows he shouldn’t, he looks at Harry, his heart aching as he watches him smile at the man he’s marrying. </p><p>“Harry.” Zayn says softly. “You really love him, don’t you.” It’s not a question. They both know, and as much as it irritates Louis it also makes him feel a little bit lighter, now that he’s not the only one to carry this burden. Now that he doesn’t have to keep his feelings bottled up, for once. </p><p>He nods, swallows when his eyes become suspiciously watery. “I do.” He wishes he were saying that somewhere else. Up there, in front of everyone. He wishes Harry would say it back to him.</p><p>Fuck. He’d known his feelings ran deep. He hadn’t known he wanted to <em>marry</em> him. </p><p>“Am I just feeling this because I’m dreaming?” He asks Zayn. “Or does this Louis, the one that belongs in this dream, does he feel it because I do?”</p><p>Zayn looks at him, and Louis is grateful for the distinct lack of pity in his eyes. “You’re catching on quick,” he says pensively. “Most people don’t even realize that they’re dreaming, let alone find that they can influence it.” He inspects his nails, that have flecks of black nail polish on them. “You know what dreams are, don’t you?”</p><p>Louis snorts. “A dream is a wish your heart makes. Alright, Cinderella.”</p><p>Zayn looks up at him, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “I like you. It’s been fun, working with you. Even though you’re a stubborn git.” </p><p>“So you’re, what, a dream guide?”</p><p>Zayn shrugs a shoulder. “Sure. If that’s what you want to call it. Every culture has its own term for it, I suppose. It doesn’t really matter, anyway, does it? What matters is what the dreams are telling you.”</p><p>Louis pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s getting a headache. “And what are they telling me?”</p><p>“What do you think they’re telling you?” Zayn parrots, and Louis has to resist the urge to sigh.</p><p>“That you’re giving me a headache,” he says bluntly, and Zayn laughs a sharp, bright laugh, that somehow makes Louis smile too. “And that you think I belong with Harry, apparently.”</p><p>Zayn shifts to lean back against the wall again, goes back to inspecting his nails like it’s more interesting than the conversation they’re having. Louis wonders if he’s given the wrong answer somehow. “Don’t you?” He asks, unable to bite his tongue.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Zayn tells him, this patient tone that is almost mocking, though Louis isn’t sure he’s really trying to make fun of him. It might just be the dream bleeding through into his feelings, but it almost seems like Zayn actually <em>cares</em>. “It matters what <em>you</em> think.”</p><p>Louis frowns. “So you think <em>I</em> think I belong with Harry?” He glances back up at him, the officiant still talking and Harry still beaming at his husband to be. “Why is he marrying someone else then?”</p><p>“Why indeed,” Zayn drawls. </p><p>Zayn might care, but Louis isn’t too sure that he cares for Zayn. He still sort of wants to punch his pretty face. Even when deep down he knows his frustration is directed elsewhere. Inwards. “Can you stop playing games?” He asks him, trying to be patient even when it’s not really in his nature. </p><p>“Can you stop being an idiot and hiding behind thought experiments?” Zayn retorts, and okay, fair. “You’re so up in your head all the time. Reminding yourself of all the reasons that you can’t. Most people only need a dream or two to get them going, but you keep coming up with reason after reason. At some point, this isn’t going to be a dream anymore, Louis. At some point this is going to be <em>real</em> and you’re not going to be able to blame anyone but yourself.” He seems agitated now, and the moment he realizes he deflates, looks almost sheepish, like he’s not used to losing control. Louis has the inane impulse to hug him. </p><p>“It’s just not that easy,” he mumbles, even when it feels like a copout. “This is a dream. There aren’t any consequences. I could stop the wedding right now, and it wouldn’t matter, because none of this is real. But if I take that chance in real life, if I tell him all the things I feel-” he bites down on his lip. “I’m scared.”</p><p>Zayn nods. “It’s alright to be scared, Lou,” he says softly. “But you can’t let that stop you from leading your life. Not when you might miss out on so many good things.” He shifts a bit, lets his shoulder press against Louis’. The contact feels nice, grounding. “Every dream you’ve had has taught you a lesson. Not just that you belong with Harry, but also that all those reasons that you have to hold back aren’t actually real. They’re just excuses, brought on by fear. The reality is that the only thing standing in your way is <em>you</em>.” He gives him a small smile. “Do you remember your dreams? The first one, that was telling you it doesn’t matter how you start, it only matters how you finish.” He ticks it off on his fingers. “The second one, where you started off as enemies. That one taught you that love can overcome any obstacle. The third dream, the lesson was no matter the distance, meant to be is meant to be.” He looks at Louis. “What do you think the lesson in this one is?”</p><p>Louis swallows. Looks up at Harry, at the officiant, who tells them <em>“If anyone sees any reason why these two should not be wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace”</em>. He looks back at Zayn. “Sometimes you need to take a risk?” He whispers, and Zayn’s smile widens. </p><p>“More than that,” he says softly. “Sometimes the risk pays off.”</p><p>***</p><p>Louis wakes up smiling this time, holding onto the last fragments of the dream, that had ended with him and Harry in Hawaii, on their honeymoon. </p><p>But more than that, this time he wakes up <em>determined</em>.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. V. (Or: I.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Throughout this fic, I will use the following:<br/>* to indicate a scene break<br/>*** to indicate switching from dream to reality</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Of course, the one morning he wakes up determined, he can’t immediately reach Harry.</p><p>He knows he has classes, that it isn’t that he’s avoiding Louis, but even during his classes they usually find some way to keep in contact. Even if it’s just through selfies and funny memes. Sometimes all they have time for is a string of emojis, but it’s always <em>something</em>.</p><p>But today, when Louis texts Harry his usual good morning text, Harry doesn’t answer. </p><p>When he texts him the usual <em>oh my God I’m so bored I swear you’d think my professor had already died, the way he’s teaching this class</em> text, at eleven thirty three, there’s no immediate answer either. There’s no three little dots underneath the message, no <em>Harry is typing</em>. </p><p>There’s not even two blue check marks to show that Harry has seen his message.</p><p>So Louis does the only sensible thing. </p><p>Once class is over and he’s got a two hour lunch break, he goes straight to Harry’s dorm room. </p><p>Sure, he could call. But there’s a little voice inside of his head that tells him Harry might be sick, or worse. Harry might be dying. Might be the victim of a horrible robbery - never mind the fact that he’s living with a roommate and there’d be an uproar on campus if someone’s dorm had actually been broken into. </p><p>There has to be <em>something</em> going on, and Louis refuses to believe that it is something he might have caused, somehow. That he’s been different these past few days, different enough for Harry to notice, to want to stay away from him.</p><p>He doesn’t want to believe that because if he starts believing it then he will start wondering why Harry had been pulling back, and <em>then</em> he’ll start wondering if that means that Harry doesn’t like him, had maybe never liked him, and that his dreams were just dreams.</p><p>He’s not ready for them to just be dreams. He’s not ready for there to be a world in which he’ll never belong to Harry, because Zayn was right. Deep down, he’d always hoped. Deep down he’d always believed that there was no way that they weren’t meant to be together. He’d just been too scared.</p><p>And not of fucking up their friendship. Or whatever other lie he’d been telling himself.</p><p>But of not being good enough, for someone as amazing as Harry. For not deserving him. </p><p>Harry would slap him, if he told him that. Louis has him up on a pedestal, even if he knows that isn’t completely healthy. But he can’t help it. Harry is everything Louis wants.</p><p>Harry is <em>everything</em>.</p><p>Where he once thought the only option was to keep quiet, so he wouldn’t lose him, he now fears that the only way he won’t lose him is to do the exact opposite.</p><p>It still fills his stomach with dread, with nausea, but he’s ready. He’s going to tell him. </p><p>God, he hopes Zayn is right.</p><p>*</p><p>Harry isn’t sick. Harry is just getting ready for a date.</p><p>A date with someone who isn’t Louis, and it’s not as though Louis hadn’t known that it could happen, he just hadn’t expected it to happen right when he’d worked up the courage to let him know how he felt. But here he is, here they are, in Harry’s dorm room, and Louis is sitting on Harry’s bed, watching Harry model clothes for him, hming and awing at the right moments and wondering how he’s going to be able to send Harry off on this date without breaking down into a complete mess.</p><p>Suddenly, telling him isn’t so easy anymore. Because Harry seems genuinely excited about his date, and it’s not fair to add onto his nerves by admitting the truth. Besides, Harry deserves a fair shot with whoever had plucked up the courage to ask him out. It’s not his fault, or that of Harry’s date, really. They’d just been quicker than Louis had been. </p><p>It’s sucky timing, that’s for sure, and Louis sort of feels like an asshole for hoping that the date doesn’t go well, because as much as he doesn’t want Harry to end up with a broken heart, he’s selfish enough to not want that for himself either.</p><p>But he’s never been good at protecting his heart when it comes to Harry, so while Harry models another set of clothes (looking gorgeous in every outfit, from tight jeans and a pink blouse to flared trousers and oversized sweaters) and Louis sits on his bed and watches him, he asks “So tell me about this guy.”</p><p>He doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to know about the competition. But he wants to know whether he should shelve his plan to tell Harry for more than the few hours it’ll take Harry to go out with some random stranger. As his best friend, Louis likes to think that he knows the type of person that Harry would fit with.</p><p>(Him. It’s him. No one else.)</p><p>If this person is everything that he could see Harry wanting, the person that Harry deserves, then - </p><p>Louis isn’t sure. Can he really act like nothing has changed? Can he rebuild the brick wall that he’d always put up around his emotions, and watch Harry live his life with no regard for how he feels? He’s not sure if that’s fair on himself. But he’s also not sure if it’s fair on Harry to dump his feelings on him, when he’s interested in someone else. </p><p>Fuck, he’s going to be dreaming of Zayn for the next few years, at this rate. </p><p>Harry’s smile is radiant, and Louis smiles as though the way his eyes sparkle isn’t enough to drive daggers through Louis’ heart. “He’s amazing.” Harry says, and the tone of his voice is so soft, so tender, that Louis wants to beg him to stop. “He’s funny. Smart. Caring. The type of person that you just want to be around, you know? And you’re happy to just be friends, but the chance to be more-” Louis knows that Harry is looking at him, works really hard to keep from scowling at his description because it sounds wonderful, and perfect, and Harry deserves all of that, but there’s no way that some random stranger could really be <em>that</em> amazing. </p><p>“That sounds wonderful, love,” he manages, even succeeding in giving him somewhat of an earnest smile. It works, once he focuses on what Harry deserves. He might have his reservations about the person Harry is going to go out with, but he doesn’t have any reservations when it comes to exactly what Harry deserves. “Where are you going?”</p><p>“This little Italian restaurant, the one that we walked past last weekend?” Louis remembers. He remembers thinking he’d love to take Harry out there. Remembers almost saying that, but managing to hold it back, only telling him he’d love to have dinner there sometime. He’s not sure why right now it feels like it’s so much harder to keep from admitting his feelings. Except that maybe it had felt so natural to not hold back in his dreams. </p><p>He smiles. “That sounds amazing. Let me know how the food is, yeah?” He glances at the clock, disappointed and relieved when he realizes his class is going to start in twenty minutes. “I should head back to uni. Good luck on your date, love. I’ll talk to you later?”</p><p>Harry nods, standing in front of the mirror, checking himself out, and Louis can’t resist the urge to press a kiss to his cheek, give his hip a little squeeze. “You look great. Your date’s going to be wonderful.” He bites down on his lip. “And if it’s not, then, ditch him and come over. I’ve got a pint of ice cream that we could split.”</p><p>Harry smiles at him through the mirror. “Thanks Lou. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”</p><p>*</p><p>His head is full of fluff, when he comes home from his last class. It’s not even 4 p.m. but Louis feels tired and achy, and he knows that if he’s left to his own devices he’s going to agonize about Harry’s date long before it’s even started. </p><p>Niall’s not home yet, has got classes until 6, so Louis feels justified in making a little blanket nest on his bed and going for a nap. Despite the turmoil in his head, it doesn’t take him long to fall asleep.</p><p>For once, he doesn’t dream. </p><p>He just sleeps, and it’s not until the doorbell rings that he wakes up, feeling groggy and confused, wondering what time it is but not really caring enough to look. He contemplates ignoring the unexpected visitor, but he can hear rain pattering softly against his window and he isn’t that much of a prick.</p><p>Besides, it might be Niall, having forgotten his key again. Or Shawn. </p><p>Neither of them would care about how Louis looks when he opens the door, so he wraps the blanket around himself, shuffles through the apartment with bleary eyes and a yawn stuck in his throat. </p><p>His heart pounds, then aches, when he sees the boy on his doorstep, and he wishes he’d looked at the clock now, because he’s not sure what Harry’s doing here, if he needs a bit of courage before his date or if it’s gone so badly that he’s here to take Louis up on his offer of ice cream and cuddles. </p><p>“Haz, hey,” he croaks, dropping the blanket so it’s not covering his head, but loosely wrapped around his shoulders instead. “Sorry, I was napping.”</p><p>Harry smiles, but his jaw is set tight. “I see that,” he says, and something about the absent way that he says it makes Louis want to wrap the blanket around the two of them. “Sorry I woke you.”</p><p>Louis blames sleep for lowering his defences. “That’s alright. You’re always a pretty good reason to wake up.”</p><p>It doesn’t make Harry smile like he expected it to, and he frowns, taking a step back so Harry can come inside, out of the rain, even though he’s got an umbrella. “What’s wrong, love?” Harry doesn’t look too happy. “Did your date cancel?”</p><p>Harry steps inside, taking the time to shake out his umbrella before folding it up, placing it carefully in the leprechaun umbrella stand Louis had bought Niall for Christmas last year. “No,” he says absently. “I mean, yes. I mean, I don’t know.”</p><p>Louis blinks. Rubs at his face. “Okay. It might just be the fact that I’m still half asleep, but that made the kind of sense that just, doesn’t?”</p><p>Harry hums. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then finally turns to face Louis. “We’re best friends, right?”</p><p>Louis frowns. “What? Of course we are. Haz, what’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?”</p><p>Harry pushes past him, but instead of entering the living room he just paces. It’s quite a feat, considering how small their hallway is. “Are you aware that you’re doing that?” He asks, and Louis frowns again, which makes Harry let out an exasperated sigh. “Calling me beautiful. Calling me love, and kissing my cheek, and telling me I look great. Because I don’t know a lot of best friends who say those things, but then you’re at my place and you’re telling me to have fun on my date and-”</p><p>Harry’s pacing is making him nervous, and Louis takes a step closer, rests a hand on his arm. “Harry-” he starts, wants to offer to sit down, but Harry shakes his head, wild in a way that Louis isn’t used to seeing him. </p><p>“I had this all figured out!” He tells him, and there’s desperation in his voice, making it tremble as he talks. “I was going to come over, and I had this whole <em>speech</em>, and then you just show up, and you confuse me all over again, and it wasn’t supposed to go like this!”</p><p>Louis blinks. “How was it supposed to go?” He asks, softly, and there’s this tickle in his stomach that he isn’t sure is good or bad yet. </p><p>“I’ve been dreaming about you.” Harry says, and Louis expected a lot but not <em>that</em>. “For the past few nights, I’ve been dreaming about you, and I didn’t think anything of it at first, because it’s not like I’ve never dreamt about you before, but it’s never been like <em>this</em>, and then-” he exhales, shakily, “and then all of these dreams, we kept ending up together, and I thought, maybe this meant something, maybe this meant that it was <em>real</em> and Liam-”</p><p>“Who’s Liam?” Louis asks, and then bites his lip. “Wait. No. I don’t care about that. You’ve been dreaming about me?”</p><p>Harry is blushing, and he can’t quite look Louis in the eye, but he nods. </p><p>“And in those dreams, we were together?” Harry hesitates, but nods again, and Louis takes a step closer. “And it made you want to go and ask me out, on a date?” He holds back a nervous laugh when Harry nods a third time. “The boy you were going to have dinner with tonight, at that restaurant, the one that you said was smart and funny - that was me?”</p><p>This time Harry looks at him, and there’s something soft and sheepish in his expression. “Maybe not that smart,” he mumbles, and Louis will forgive him the jab at his intelligence because the corner of Harry’s mouth is tugging up in the sweetest way and there are honest to God butterflies in his stomach. </p><p>“You want to know something funny?” He whispers, standing close enough that Harry sways into him a little. “I dreamt about you too.” He reaches for him, shifts to wrap the blanket around the both of them, because it’s warm and comfortable and all that’s good in the world. He has to look up just a little bit when they’re this close, but it’s worth it when Harry’s fingers land tentatively on his waist. “And I was coming over to your place to tell you how I felt about you.”</p><p>Harry blinks. “You did? You were?”</p><p>Louis nods. “And then you told me about this date that you were going on, and I was stupidly jealous.” He makes a face, worming a hand out of their cocoon to brush a strand of hair from Harry’s forehead. “Because I am completely and utterly in love with you, and I have been for the past three years.”</p><p>Harry looks down at him, something so tender in his expression that Louis nearly melts. “You are?” He sounds breathless. “Am I dreaming again?”</p><p>It’s a fair question. If they’ve both been dreaming about each other - and Louis wonders if that means they’ve been dreaming the same dreams, if they’ve both had dream guides trying to get them to realize what was right in front of them, because he remembers dreaming about a Liam once or twice, now that he thinks about it - then what was the guarantee that this was real life? </p><p>It feels like real life though. There’s no made up scenario this time. His apartment still looks like his apartment. Harry is still Harry, still looks the same as he’s always done. Best of all, there’s no Zayn. </p><p>(Not that Louis hadn’t liked Zayn. He just prefers a little privacy for their first kiss, even if that feels a bit presumptuous.)</p><p>“If it is a dream, then it’s not one I want to wake up from,” he whispers, his hand slipping to the back of Harry’s neck. He pushes himself up on his toes, then stops, his lips just an inch from Harry’s mouth. “Wait. Scratch that. I don't want this to be a dream. I want it to be reality. <em>Our</em> reality." He watches Harry, watches his smile that tells him everything he needs to know. </p><p>It gives him the courage to lean up, press a gentle kiss to his lips. Just to test the waters, though it proves to be harder to pull away than he'd expected. He knows it's important to tell him though. To finally be honest. The knowledge that Harry had been just as confused, just as hurt, as Louis had been this afternoon is enough to finally spur him into action, to make sure he never feels that way again.</p><p>"So if for some reason this <em>is</em> another dream," he tells him earnestly, his fingers stroking Harry's cheek, "then the first thing I’m going to do when I wake up is go over to your dorm, wake you, and tell you how I feel about you.”</p><p>Harry’s laugh sort of gets stuck in his throat, when Louis’ free hand comes to rest on his waist. “Promise?” He whispers, and Louis feels almost delirious with how much he wants him, how much he <em>loves</em> him. </p><p>He smiles. “Promise.”</p><p>***</p><p>He’s old. His joints are stiff and his bones feel brittle, and Louis is pretty sure that the teeth in his mouth will end up in a glass at his bedside table before he goes to sleep. His hands look weathered, and his heart is doing this odd thing where it thumps and then skips in a way that he’s used to associating with Harry. </p><p>Harry. He glances up from his hands, from the gold wedding band on his finger, finds himself smiling the moment his eyes land on an equally wizened face, those eyes still the same shade of green that Louis remembers from years past. Harry’s smile is still the same too, full of affection and adoration, and even now, in old age, it still makes his heart sing.</p><p>He glances at their surroundings then, has to push his glasses further onto his face to see beyond the deck of cards on the table, only to find that he doesn’t recognize anything outside of Harry. </p><p>There are other people here though, and it’s easy to infer that he’s in a nursing home. Even before he spots the uniforms, the carers milling around, checking up on people.</p><p>Old age makes it take a bit before he recognizes the figure heading up towards them, even though his brain knows that years haven’t passed, that he’d fallen asleep with Harry in his arms just a few hours ago. </p><p>“Zayn.” His voice sounds old, and croaky, and Zayn smiles, gives him a smart little salute that makes Louis want to roll his eyes as much as it makes him want to smile at the same time. </p><p>“Hi Lou.” It’s soft and familiar, and something about it makes Louis almost wistful. </p><p>“Is this a dream then? I mean, it has to be, hasn’t it? Unless I magically aged about fifty years overnight.” He glances down at the person behind Zayn, the one that’s making Harry light up in turn. <em>Liam</em>. “Please tell me I didn’t magically age fifty years overnight.”</p><p>Zayn snorts. “You didn’t magically age fifty years overnight.” He says helpfully, and Louis watches him lean into Liam a little bit, their bodies gravitating towards each other in a way that makes him wonder if they’re even aware of it.</p><p>“So a dream?” Louis asks, just to confirm. His heart skips a beat. “Or is this your way of telling me it’s all going to work out, and that this is our future?” </p><p>There’s a soft smile on Zayn’s face as he shrugs. “Does it matter?”</p><p>Louis looks at Harry. At his salt and pepper hair, that’s yet to fully go grey. At the wrinkles by his eyes, and the way that he always seems to know when Louis is looking at him, because it’s barely more than a second before he meets Louis’ eyes and gives him a smile that’s just for him. </p><p>And Louis can see it. The entire thing. He can see himself spending the next fifty years with him. Can see them building a life together. Marriage. Kids. Grandkids. He can see himself loving Harry in every stage of his life. </p><p>Maybe this is just a dream. Maybe he won’t get there. But for once, he’s not afraid to try. </p><p>He turns to Zayn again. “I guess not.” He says softly, and even though it takes him a moment, he pushes himself to get up from his chair, take a few unsteady steps so he can wrap his arms around Zayn. There’s a small part of him that’s surprised to feel that Zayn is solid, as if he were as real as any of them. It makes him pull back just a little bit. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “For everything. I wouldn’t be here, if it weren’t for you.”</p><p>Zayn hugs him back, careful in a way that Louis would take offense at if his knees weren’t already aching. “You’re welcome.”</p><p>“Is this the last time I’ll see you?” Louis in old age is apparently just as incapable of biting his tongue, and for a brief moment, something sad flickers over Zayn’s face. “Now that your job is done… Do you have to move on? Are you - do you exist?”</p><p>He watches, as Liam rests a hand on Zayn’s hip, something soft and comfortable that eases some of the pressure in Louis’ chest. Because no matter what happens, at least Zayn isn’t alone. “Who knows,” Zayn says softly. “You’re pretty stubborn. I might be back.”</p><p>Louis sees him glance at Harry though, and he thinks that they might both be on the same page. Might both know that as long as Louis manages to hold onto him, this is goodbye. There’s a lump in his throat, and Harry must sense it, or maybe he is in a similar situation with Liam, because he reaches out for him, fingers slotting together like they were made for each other, and maybe they are. </p><p>And as sad as Louis is at the thought of never seeing Zayn again, he knows better than to regret anything. Not when his dreams have come true, and he’s gotten everything he’s wanted, right there at his fingertips. </p><p>***</p><p>He wakes up with Harry in his arms. With Harry’s hair, its usual brown colour, tickling his nostrils. There’s no wedding ring on his finger, no age spots on his hands, and only the tiniest twinge in his back that comes from sleeping with another person in a too small bed. </p><p>When he shifts, trying to get some feeling back in the arm that Harry’s pinned to the bed, his fingers come into contact with a small rectangle his tired brain instinctively recognizes as an envelope. He reaches for it, careful not to jostle Harry too much, and manages to open it up one handed.</p><p>A fifty pound note is folded up inside a short letter, that’s written in a beautiful loopy script.</p><p>
  <em>Please use this for your first date. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thanks for letting us be part of your story.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Love,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Liam &amp; Zayn</em>
</p><p>The note raises more questions than answers, but with Harry in his arms, still peacefully asleep - perhaps still dreaming of Liam and Zayn, or of another part of their future that they’ve yet to see - Louis ignores those questions. None of it truly matters, anyway. All that matters is what is real, and thanks to Liam and Zayn, waking up with Harry is no longer a dream. It’s a reality, one that Louis plans to hold onto for the rest of his life. </p><p>So he tucks the note away under his pillow, resolving to tell Harry about it later, maybe after he’s taken him out to breakfast. Or dinner. Or to the movies.</p><p>He’s excited about all the dates he gets to take him out on. About the potential that they have. </p><p>Because for the first time since he met Harry, he doesn’t feel like he’s trying to outrun the clock. He doesn’t feel like he has to cling to this moment, because he has faith that many more of these moments will come. </p><p>So for now, with nowhere to go and nothing to do, he just buries his face in Harry’s hair and smiles.</p><p>-fin-</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you liked this fic, please leave a kudo/comment so I know that you want me to write more!<br/>Please also consider reblogging the <a href="https://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/post/643114245882576896/love-put-us-two-together-but-we-dont-know-how-to">fic post</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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